g....
Then she whipped into the car and slammed the door. A moment later the
engine was running. She let in the clutch, and the car moved
forward....

As she turned on to the London road, she changed into second speed ...
into third ... top....

The two men stood as she had left them, motionless, the little white
dog eyeing them curiously.

The steady purr of the engine grew fainter and fainter.

When it had quite died, Anthony turned and touched the other upon the
shoulder.

"There's always Gramarye," he said.

For a moment the giant peered at him. Then he straightened his bowed
shoulders and threw up his head.

"Yes," he shouted, "yes. There's always Gramarye!"

CHAPTER VII

NEHUSHTAN

"It is only right, Lyveden," said Colonel Winchester, "that you should
know that I am losing my mind."

The steady, measured tone of the speaker invested this bald statement
with a significance which paralyzed. Anthony stood as if rooted to the
floor.

"Yes," said the other, "it was bound to shake you up. But I want you
to realize it. Sit down for a minute and think what it means."

Anthony did as he was bid--dazedly. His employer turned his back and
stared into the fire.

The silence which ensued was painful. So much so, that Mr. Samuel
Plowman, Solicitor and Commissioner for Oaths, whose nerves were less
subordinate than those of the two ex-officers, was hard put to it not
to scream.

It must be confessed that in the last twenty-five minutes the poor
gentleman had encountered a whole pack of things, none of which had
been dreamt of in his philosophy. Little had he imagined, when he was
desired to attend professionally at Gramarye "precisely at half-past
ten on Sunday morning," what that attendance would bring forth.
Colonel Winchester had certainly a reputation for eccentricity. His
letter was undoubtedly--well, peculiar. Mr. Plowman had smiled upon
his finger-nails--a sapient, indulgent smile. He had dealt with
eccentricity before. Witness Miss Sinister of Mallwood, who had
summoned him in just such a way, but more peremptorily. Then he had
been desired to superintend the cremation of a favourite cat. That was
nine years ago. For the last eight years he had superintended
Mallwood. Mr. Plowman had smiled more than ever....

At twenty-six minutes past ten that February morning he had ascended
the broken steps of the old grey mansion, a little curious, perhaps,
but, as he would have told y